


i think a chamber's cracked

by americangothic



Category: Tron (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grief, Pre-Canon, a little bit. don't take me at my word, in that it's before legacy and after the original
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americangothic/pseuds/americangothic
Summary: Sam Flynn, showing up on grainy camera footage and glimpses on news stations at age twenty-seven, enjoyed this yearly ritual of pranking his father's company. They deserved it.It wasn't the only ritual he had, of course, just the one that was easiest to think about.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	i think a chamber's cracked

**Author's Note:**

> gay people will stop abruptly in the middle of their late night summer homework to write tron legacy fanfiction. i'm gay people. title is from son of a gun by eric william morris iirc, recommended listening for this fic. it's always recommended listening. it's a good song.

Sam Flynn, showing up on grainy camera footage and glimpses on news stations at age twenty-seven, enjoyed this yearly ritual of pranking his father's company. They deserved it.

It wasn't the only ritual he had, of course, just the one that was easiest to think about.

* * *

He's six years old when it happens, yes. Three years old when his mother dies, but six years old when something happens to his father. This doesn't mean anything.

* * *

Sam Flynn, standing on a beach at age nine, digging his toes in the sand. Letting himself stare out at the water blankly. Maybe, maybe his father was like a wave. There long enough to be seen and disappearing when you look too long. 

This is the part, he thinks, where his father crashes against the shore and dissolves into nothing. That part was three years ago, now.

His grandmother tried very hard to distract him today. It didn't work, but he appreciates the effort anyway. 

* * *

Sam Flynn, brushing his hair out of his eyes at age seven. It has grown. He hasn't gotten it cut for a very long time. All times are very long times when you are so young.

April is around the corner. He goes to the barber. 

When he gets home, he's disappointed to see he no longer resembles the picture of Sam Flynn, laughing at something his father is telling him at age six. The haircut is the same, but the face has changed.

* * *

Sam Flynn, thinking about his family name at age twelve. It catches in his throat. There has never been another Sam in his classes.

Then there is another Sam in his classes. The teachers look at the attendance chart, and look at him, and look at the other Sam. The other Sam becomes Sam O. The teachers call him Sam, just Sam, only Sam, like it will change anything.

* * *

Sam Flynn, who has just looked up the definition of the word 'delinquent' at age ten. He wrinkles his nose down at it and decides yes, that fits well enough.

* * *

Sam Flynn, gripping his hair in his hands at age sixteen, tired of getting that same shitty fluffy unkempt haircut every single year at the end of March. He grimaces at the mirror. There's a pair of clippers in the cabinet somewhere. He knows the drugstore a twenty-minute walk away has hair dye.

Sam Flynn, one extraordinarily unplanned undercut and dye job later at age sixteen, looking at the little bits of hair in the sink. Wondering. It wasn't his grandparents' fault he got that haircut every year.

Part of the thing about aging is people don't recognize you on first glance, especially when they haven't seen you in a while. They have to rely on other things like favorite clothes or familiar voices or the same haircut you had a decade ago that night.

* * *

Sam Flynn, wrestling out of his shirt at age nineteen, then throwing himself at the shitty used punching bag he got from a coworker. It looked like he needed it, she said, and she hadn't been using it anyway.

It's more therapeutic than he's willing to admit, and he thanks her for it the next shift they have together.

* * *

Sam Flynn, leaning sprawled against the back of a couch in the school counselor's office at age fourteen. Horrified to find his voice cracking (seriously? He thought he was done with this part) as he talked about the night of his father's disappearance.

The counselor asks why he doesn't rephrase the way he talks about what happened to his father, and Sam Flynn, with more venom in his voice than he expected at age fourteen, replies that if he wanted to talk about his dead parent, he'd bring up his mom.

* * *

Sam Flynn, angry and sad at age sixteen, never getting used to living in a world that doesn't overlap with the one his dad is in.

**Author's Note:**

> now, you may think this seems completely unrelated to tron (you'd be right), but go read the pestilence webcomic. i've been writing a shit ton of stuff for that but you won't get to read it for like two years. it's good and much like tron it's uhh sci-fi. that's about it. anyhoo. if you're here for an actual end note i don't really have one but tumblr is @mutatedfish if you're interested


End file.
